Titan
by Fellace
Summary: The thoughts of Quicksilver as he runs.


  
I hardly own anything worth owning. And yes, that is my disclaimer.  
This is also my first shot at the whole fanfiction thing in a while, so I ask forgiveness for all the errors.  
Now, read away.  
  
Titan by niesque  
  


This... feels so strange.  
  
I'm on this high, a strange, foreign soaring feeling at my fingertips. I can almost touch the energy, building between my shoulders, in my chest, while my heart is pounding endlessly. The rhythm creates a frenzied kind of balance that keeps me going on, further, further.   
  
I push myself harder and the world blurs. The energy is still pounding in me, uncurling, creating waves that shrink to small tingles at my fingers. I feel free, and the blur is all I can see, the energy is all I can focus on.  
  
The high lasts as I go faster, the world dizzying my head and my eyes pained from staying open for so long. I can't bear to black out this world, this universe, for even a moment. When the black covers everything and sweeps across the painted, careless image, I'm so afraid–it might stop.  
  
I feel so high, so mighty, so powerful. Everything uncurls at my fingers, the energy in my head pounds on and never ceases. I feel like laughing, but I'm... almost afraid, as I slow, that it'll come out as something I can't handle. In my ears, the laughter sounds normal, well, enough for me, anyway. But otherwise... when I laugh like I usually do... it comes out odd, high, too fast, in...human.   
  
Kind of like this.  
  
I slow down more, and I finally feel some of the pain and my hair, brushed back. My head is throbbing and my ankles feel weak, my knees ready to collapse and my vocal chords strained. I don't know the reason for the last one–I haven't talked, it seems, for hours. But it's probably only been a few minutes.  
  
I hug the air and let the energy drift away. I want to stop it, I want to keep this feeling forever, and never stop. The thing I fear has come down, and I accept it with open arms and a small smirk, a comfortable enough expression to wear. Something to hide the rest deep down, like the gray of a stormy ocean with curling waves underneath. Yeah. Me.   
  
I suck in a breath, and I wince slightly. My head always feels off after the runs, after the thinking, after the high, after I've fallen from the feeling. The fear is descending–I can feel it almost tangibly, like my energy. I choke at the thickness of it, and breathe, trying to keep myself from going straight down from my high. It's hard, sometimes, but I've learned, somehow, to control it–better control over my power and my body than others, he used to say to me. Before he stopped caring.  
  
I take another deep breath and I realize, my eyes blurry, that the world has come back into focus. I wince at a deep ache in my chest, a pounding. The energy wants to come out again, it's screaming and tearing at me to be free. The pain is bearable–but it starts to build, slowly, tumbling into a greater force with the other sources of pain in this life. I can feel it, edging, ready, close to me. A constant presence, even when I'm alone–my power.  
  
I've fallen, and I feel odd, away, spinning. The world is so clear, so sharp, so cutting. I blink a bit, ready and open to accept the blackness, the sheer expanse where I can release everything. My legs already feel restricted as I lock them, forcing them to keep still, to keep that energy from escaping into the air.   
  
I take in another breath, clearing my head, clearing my lungs, my body. I feel more... clean. But the dirtiness, the stain, the dark haziness I love so much, is still lingering in the back of my mind, trying to take over and sail to the skies across my shoulders. Like... wings.  
  
"Hey, Pietro, where have you been?" I feel my heart pounding still, but I keep myself composed and answer quickly, smoothly. Look him square in the eye, stop breathing so hard, stop your legs from feeling so weak. A simple answer is good enough for now–do I even have enough energy to speak in riddles?  
  
"Running, what else?" the answer seems to be enough... but of course I knew it would be.   
  
It is always enough.  
  
- end titan.  


  
I blame the way Pietro is thinking here on his different mind set while using his power. I like to imagine that he's pretty much engulfed by everything, all the vibrancy and detail, that he tries to keep up with it and focus for once. And in that process, all the ordinary characteristics are overpowered.  
But still, I'm probably going to end up revising it because of that particular flaw. The whole one-shot seems too impersonal, too lacking to be considered purely Pietro. So I'll try again one day.  
I'd still like your thoughts though, and if you have some time, I'd appreciate a review :)  



End file.
